War for a Country that Tastes like Nothing
by Killed for Art's Sake
Summary: The war has yet to start, but Miguel already wants nothing to do with the “magnificent” Zaibach army. Unfortunately, he has no other option; escape from the draft is futile. Can Miguel adapt to the harsh cruelty of war AND his less-than-sane leader?


A/N: Why, hello there. I am the writer formally known as Hitomi-no-Hikari. I haven't posted in, oh, about a year, I'm sure. But enough about that. I'm posting again and that's all that matters.

Reviews make me very happy. Take thirty seconds to leave a review, and you'll probably make my day.

I'm dead serious.

Rated for language, and soon to be violence.

Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne. Really. I swear. Please don't sue me. TT

War for a Country that Tastes like Nothing---

I caught a snowflake on my tongue. I felt its icy presence for only about a moment before it melted into oblivion.

It didn't taste like anything.

"The city is so beautiful, yet somehow very sad." Dalet leaned his head against my shoulder, eyes closing as if he were about to fall asleep. I could tell from his voice that he was wide awake, however tired he looked. Dalet wasn't very good at fooling me anymore. I was too used to him.

Both of us had been waiting here for a long time. Waiting for "fate" as one might put it. The floating fortress was due to pick us up shortly. Its job was to train us for war. Oh, this all wasn't our choice. We were dragged into it. Dragged into it by the military. Ah, yes, the military.

Making little boys into little toy soldiers.

"You sound like a poet," I chuckled. "Since when do you think about things like that?"

He took his head off of my shoulder and met my eyes, feigning offense. "Since when? Well, Miguel, since always. I always think about things like that."

I had never really imagined Dalet as a very deep or thoughtful person, but I smiled and nodded my head all the same. "Always, then?"

He grinned. "Yeah, always."

"And what," I paused to open my mouth, catching another snowflake, "makes this city so depressing?"

I didn't really need to ask that question. I knew why the Zaibach capital felt so empty. It was the machines, I figured. The machines that turned on the lights and the cars and acted in place of elementary school teachers. I remembered the first day of kindergarten vividly. We all stepped into a room with metal walls decorated with amateur pictures of horses and guymelefs. The teacher sat us down in separate cubicle like rooms and told us to be quiet.

She left.

A few minutes later, projection screens scrolled down from the wall of each cube. Several of the smaller children cried out in surprise. Then, an image of a teacher appeared on the screen and started to sound out letters of the alphabet...

Zaibach children are raised to live without other humans. Zaibach adults did. For the most part.

Dalet let his mouth curl up into a smirk, believing that he knew the secret of Zaibach's despair more than I did. "I can't tell you, it wouldn't be as fun."

"Okay," I leaned back against the wall, tired of playing games. We had been friends for a long time now. Somehow we managed to escape the self sufficient Zaibach system. When we were recruited for the military, our unique dependency surprisingly made us more advantageous.

"Oh? You're both joining together? Well that's perfect, see, because we're actually looking for a few boys to work as group..."

Group work was something different in this culture. Something usually shunned. The military is trying new strategies, I supposed. Special strategies that will help us win the war. Convert the rest of Gaea to technology.

"It's better that way," the computerized teacher would tell us, "It's better with technology. See, isn't it amazing? Where would Zaibach be without these wonderful industrial advances? Where would the rest of Gaea be?"

"Nowhere." The children were taught to reply, "The rest of Gaea is nowhere without Zaibach. That's why we need to help spread it. Spread technology. Spread Zaibach."

And that's what this war is for. The other countries won't be able to see it right away, but once Zaibach takes enough cities, everything will be perfect.

I brushed aside that idea. Dalet did too. Zaibach cities were cold. The bright lights lit up the roads and buildings and everything beautiful, but the machines killed it. The machines rammed the city through the chest with a long pole. The city squirmed and bled, but the machines didn't stop. The land silently cried out for the air that had abandoned it. Don't be silly, my city. Of course no help will come. Instead, look. Look. Isn't technology wonderful? Look what it can do for us.

Look.

Yet, somehow Dalet and I found ourselves joining the military and fighting for Zaibach's cause. Fate is ironic like that. It's hilarious. But we were of age, yes. We were of age and the Zaibach army wanted us.

"Do you think that the military will pick us up soon?"

I pointed to the large ship now floating just above the cityscape. "It looks like it'll be here soon. Maybe five... ten minutes. Give or take."

It came in three.

I clung onto the strap of my backpack and hoisted it over my shoulder. Dalet did the same as we approached the now grounded floating fortress. The first people out of it were the standard Zaibach soldiers. The ones people would see on posters or public projections. Their bodies were completely incased in silver armor. I half wondered whether or not they ever took it off. It seemed so natural, like it was part of their body.

Following the generic gray soldiers was a short boy with feathery blonde hair. His uniform clearly emphasized his class; its blue metallic glow gave off the image of a more experienced fighter. His face did nothing to convey this impression, however. As those azure eyes of his looked at us, I could only see I child.

I also noticed that he was blushing.

The small soldier finally reached his intended distance from us. He started to smile nervously and then, as if remembering his job, composed a stern professional expression.

I tried hard not to laugh at his emotional mask.

"Are you," he unfolded a sheet of paper and looked at it, eyes scanning over the text, "Lavariel, Miguel and Senek, Dalet?"

I attempted to stand at attention, but my backpack slid off of my shoulder. I managed to grasp onto the handle right before it hit the ground, but I'm sure that I looked like a complete fool in the process.

Dammit.

Dalet saluted and did his best to contain his chuckles, "Yes, that's us."

The boy nodded his head. "Follow me." He spoke timidly, clearly not used to a leadership role. If he's our leader, I thought, we're in deep shit. Unless he can fight, which I highly doubted. He looked like he could be placed under glass and displayed as piece of chinaware. I wanted to speak with him. Ask him all sorts of questions. Sweet, little innocent child, what are you doing as a soldier?

I didn't speak, though. I'm not stupid.

"After you get on the ship," the little soldier explained, "you'll receive a mission outline and become acquainted with your comrades." He laughed weakly, "You'll be working with me and a few others. I'm pleased to--"

He stopped.

He must have thought he was getting too familiar with us. Once again, the stern expression replaced his smile. "I'll speak more of it later."

Dalet and I nodded.

"Hey, Miguel," Dalet nudged my shoulder, speaking in a hushed whisper, "Say goodbye to the city. We won't see it again for a few months."

"Right."

As we climbed onto the ship, I turned around and blew a kiss to the landscape.

Goodbye, snow that tastes like nothing. Goodbye, country that tastes like nothing.

I'm fighting your war for you.


End file.
